Horia

To: Princeton Board of Admissions

Entry Essay – Personal History of Racism in America

Malachi Holder

Speaking about my own history on a topic such as this, racism, is eating the elephant to say the least. Without a doubt it made me think, and deeper than I though I would. Being a straight, white male, I may not have have the proper insight to really dig into the topic, the learned experience, so-to-say, to really offer valuable input or analysis. Still, I do have some learned experience, and the more I think about the topic the more I realize I may have something to add. You see, the history of racism, my history, is a double edged sword. It has certainly effected and molded my life, flavored my likes, language, choices, and friends. It also imbued me with intense guilt, especially throughout childhood. It taught me many things and made me a better person, even though my own personal history with racism tells me much if it is not what is seems?

Growing up in Cleveland, Ohio, I first learned the real depths and history of racism in fourth grade. Hot mail had just came out as free e-mail, so I was doing my tech duty by selling all my classmates their own e-mail for five dollars, and the passwords were all only four characters. History class spoke of a horrible time in America, (and the world?) and the stories and struggles of the slaves during the civil war America inspired and excited me. The concepts of underdogs, of strong silent men who spoke little but acted decisively, the clear evil enemy of the fat greasy overseers, snide and obnoxious on horseback, painted a vivid picture in my mind. I remember these sections, along with parts on Native American history, were also the most vividly illustrated sections, and I can still remember the moving portraits they included. It inspired me to write my own story, titled simply “Freedom”, in fifth grade. It told the story of a slave, under unimaginable conditions, who fights for his freedom to the death, killing the overseer but succumbing to his own wounds, yet looking at the sky as his life fades, dying free. It brought my teacher to tears and won me an award in the sixth grade. It made me want to become a writer, but now I wonder if I was just playing to my audience.

The period of my youth was interesting, because I feel there was a slow but distinct shift in the way white people talked and acted about race. Cleveland is diverse, with a large black population, so schools always had a healthy mix of all people. If I am being honest, I was always sort of scared of the black kids in my school, at least at a young age. The seemed bigger, stronger, faster, stuck together, spoke a different cooler? language, often came from the rougher parts of town, and they liked to throw their weight around. They lived by a different code, dog eat dog, and it was death to any who got in their way. White kids bullied too, don't get me wrong, but it never felt as scary.

That seemed to shift. The neighborhoods melded, the schools melded further. By high school it seemed skateboarding, video games, and American consumerism had begun to equalize the youth of both cultures. When I was young I can remember a few times, in hushed corners, some of my white friends saying the “N” word in a mean way, a racist way. After about ninth grade I don't ever remember that happening again, and even the implication of it would lead to horror and shame. Maybe the world didn't change, it only changed us, but the way we all thought about and dealt with each other was changing.

Still I had preconceived bias. I went to juvenile detention, running with the wrong crowds, and was one of the only white kids in the inner-city jail they sent me. I was bullied and attacked by black kids, and I always thought it was because I was white. I realize now, it wasn't all of them, only a few. It was nothing race and all human nature.

Through all that black people and black culture always seemed a Unicorn to me, some mythical creature. Their style of humor made me laugh the hardest, their way of cutting through the bull of a situation and getting to the heart of the matter. Rap, free style, hip hop culture, it was all very romantic to a white youth in the 90's. I tried to have as many black friends as I could, but it was always over hung with the guilt of the countries past sins. But it seemed like we were getting past it.

Nowadays that's seemingly over. Racism is the topic of the day, again, and white people are worse than ever, according to some. It's hard to tell if it is only what's on T.V., or it is something that large amounts of people actually believe. Still everyday it seems to grow more and more, in the schools, in the entrance essays, the news, the climate, the pandemics. Imagine how I felt when I discovered my family immigrated in the 1920's and wasn't even involved in American slavery, although maybe in some other country, who knows. It all seemed kind of silly than, ravaging ourselves today for the sins of the past. Time can only bring us together as a country, unless we keep pushing away. We can only being going backwards, when we are more the same than ever before, if we will it.

I realize my skin color probably tainted every word I have written here today, diminishing my words to nothing, but it shouldn't. That is racism. Race doesn't have to be, shouldn't have to be, the center of who you are, unless you let it. Not today, not anymore. We have had these arguments before, and we will always strive in time to be better, it is human nature. I hope twitter and you tube lies, I hope we have learned from our past. Otherwise the history of racism in this country may have more sad tales to tell.